


Million Dollar Man

by takemyhart (sewerwitchlove)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Corporal Punishment, Daddy Kink, Dark, Dark!Hanzo, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, F/M, Female Reader, Implied/Referenced Incest, Japanese Rope Bondage, Naked Female Clothed Male, Non-Consensual Spanking, Punishment, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rope Bondage, Rough Sex, Scion Hanzo, Shibari, Slut Shaming, Spanking, like if you squint you could maybe see it, that scion hanzo skin really got me going
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 12:09:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14355153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sewerwitchlove/pseuds/takemyhart
Summary: Scion!Hanzo is feeling out of control after the killing of his brother. He just needs a pretty little thing like you to look after and give him the love he deserves. Pity that you're so much like Genji. Good thing daddy is here to guide you.





	Million Dollar Man

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again, dolls! Here is my take on a bit of a darker Hanzo fic. This was just quickly typed out after seeing the new Scion skin. I'm new to writing penetrative sex so hopefully this is ok.

It really wasn’t your fault. He was the one to suggest taking you out for cocktails. You’d both been having a great night. He didn’t usually take you out just for drinks, but he was feeling a desire to dress you up and watch as everyone in the VIP area stared at you both lounging together like you owned the place. Hell, he probably did. He seemed happy to let you giggle and dance and drink in front of him while he sat back and sipped at a bottle of something that probably cost more than all the cocktails you had combined. Until you drank too much. All at his expense, of course, but he blamed you for your lack of control.

You spent the ride home in silence with his hand forming a bruise on your upper arm. He didn’t even look at you as the chauffeur made the familiar journey back to the Shimada Estate. Your head was spinning, your mouth tasted like whatever fruity liqueur you had consumed, but your happy, giddy mood had died in the face of the anger you could feel rolling off Hanzo. You didn’t risk saying anything to anger him more, already a little confused about how the evening had soured.

He all-but dragged you to his room, moving quicker than your heeled feet could keep up and you stumbled frequently, not yet daring to protest or ask him to slow down. When you finally reached his quarters, he threw you in and spoke his first words since he ordered your last Guava Colada.

“Have you no shame?” he snapped, nostrils flaring as his cold eyes stared you down, keeping you in place.

“Um, I-I-” still confused, you spluttered out incoherently searching your drunken mind for an answer that would appease him. “Daddy, I-”

He cut you off with a snarl, manhandling you further into the room until you were standing in front of him, eyes to the floor. Your attention was brought back to him when the straps of your dress were snapped from your shoulder and hauled down until your bra was exposed to the room. You wrestled away with a grunt, looking up at the blurry face of your lover as your eyes teared up. His strength was greater than yours, however, so all you got for your efforts was the bodice of your garment digging into your back as he tugged you forward by the ruined material of the dress.

“You were acting like a whore,” he spat. “The staff, the patrons – all of them were privy to your teasing. Such a shameless display for a Shimada.”

Looking into his sharp, drawn eyebrows was like looking into the eyes of a hawk. You dared not take your eyes off his, or move, or even breathe too deeply lest you rouse more of his anger. You could feel his rage rolling from him like heat, keeping you in place as you blinked back tears and swallowed. You knew he would broker no denials when he was in this mood. You searched for the words he wanted to hear.

“I’m sorry, daddy. I didn’t mean to dishonour you.”

As you opened your mouth to apologise more, he raised his gloved hand to silence you.

“Get on your knees. Arms back.”

You made to kneel before him, only to be stopped by his raised hand once again. He didn’t speak; only twisted his hand to make you turn around, your back to him. Before you raised your arms to your back he grasped your dress again and tore straight down the seam of the flimsy material and repeating the process with your underwear. You lowered yourself clumsily, quaking knees resting on scraps of silk and the carpet below.

“There,” he said, looking at you shaking and kneeling in shreds of ruined fabric, “your appearance matches your behaviour.”

You didn’t react verbally, only sniffling slightly as you cringed into the carpet. You were so confused, so _hurt_ , that it was difficult to make your arms cooperate as your mind flipped through the events of the night. You weren’t acting improperly, were you? No more so than you ever had before. Actually, you had been quite tame tonight, dancing only in front of Hanzo and not joining the crowd on the dancefloor below the VIP area. Your mind raced for an answer it couldn’t find. You clasped your arms behind your back, shivering either due to exposure or fear, as you knelt and awaited your punishment.

You had plenty of time to think. Hanzo was silent, purposefully striding around the room as you stewed in your thoughts. You could hear the muffled sounds of his Italian leather shoes on the luxury bamboo carpet. You kept your eyes down, not wishing to raise his ire as you knew was possible. It was better to play along. Aside from his brooding and occasional temper he treated you very well. Like a princess, really. But, like all princesses, you were guarded by a dragon and dragons are known for their fire.  

You jumped slightly as you felt opposing textures. Rough rope and the buttery smoothness of his gloves against your neck. Your heart raced as the rope looped over your throat like a collar, choking you if you leant forward out of his grasp. He could feel you stiffing. He wasn’t so far lost in his anger that he didn’t soothe you. Stroking your hair, he cooed nonsense noises in your ear, causing you to relax a little. Despite his anger, you knew your punishment wouldn’t cause you _serious_ harm. Satisfied at your compliance, he stepped behind you and continued passing the rope over your goose-bumped skin. You could feel your hair standing on end as the rope chafed down your back. You had to arch back to avoid losing your breath as he pulled on the ends of the rope and coiled them under your breasts and around your waist. As you took a breath you could feel the rope digging into your ribs and neck as the oxygen expanded your airways.

The restriction panicked you slightly, making you take shallow gasps which only worsened the pressure on your torso and neck. You could hear his breathing behind you, calm and casual as he bound you. Taking your cues from him, you tried to match your inhales and exhales. No need to make this worse for yourself by panicking. You jumped again as he passed the rope snugly over your slit and ass, tying it to the knot he had already made on your lower back.

This position had you entirely vulnerable. You couldn’t move, couldn’t even _breathe_ too deeply. If you tried to straighten up you would strangle yourself. If you wiggled too much the rough fabric would burn your cunt and your asshole. If you gasped or cried out it would bite into your waist and ribcage. In your mind, you cursed his anger as your head hung down in defeat. He had all manner of silk restraints, cuffs, even bondage tape, but he chose the roughest braided textile he could. Your skin would be stained with friction burn and possibly bruises by the time this was over.

You could hear him step back, could feel his eyes peruse your form and you just knew he would have the iciest, smuggest smirk _ever_ stretched across his lips. Before you realised it was happening, he used the heel of his shoe between your shoulder blades to kick you face-down. You let out a horrible hacking choking noise as your face pressed into the carpet and the rope pressed into your windpipe. Coughing, you could feel the imprint of his sole on your back. You wailed slightly, in between hacks.

 “Don’t complain. I could’ve tied you up in a less comfortable position,” he rumbled.

How that was possible you didn’t know. You were restrained in every possible way, prone on the floor like you were performing dogeza. You lay there, face down and ass up as he bent beside you.  You moaned weakly as he tested the restraints, pulling and tugging at them and stinging your sensitive skin.

He lowered his face to yours, breathing directly into your ear: “You will listen to every single word I say. If you don’t then I’ll leave you here for the maids to discover in the morning.”

You exhale shakily. Unable to nod, you settle for a small, “Yes, daddy,” as you wonder what else he had in store for you.

With your eyes lowered your field of vision was restricted. Lying prostrate below him you could see only his impeccable shoes and creaseless suit trousers. Looking at his unrumpled state, you never would have guessed he had spent the last few hours in a nightclub. You couldn’t move your head, so your eyes flicked back and forth, watching as he paced in front of you like a waiting wolf. You tensed as he circled you, telling you how shameful your behaviour was to the Shimada name. How you need this correction so as to avoid future embarrassment. The anger in his voice was tangible, settling heavy in the air between you both.

Stepping behind you, he paused for a moment, enjoying how your breathing hitched and you tensed against your restraints. Quick as an arrow, he dug his hands under the loops around your waist and hauled you back towards him. All you could feel was your scraping knees and pulse pounding in your ears as you were dragged backwards by the rope binding your neck. Spluttering, you whooped in breaths and blinked away tears as you heard him settling in the chair behind you. Your trembles from the start of the evening turned into shivers as pain bloomed across your body. Your knees burned, and your throat ached. You could barely swallow the saliva pooling in your mouth.

You knew you were in for a spanking as you heard him remove his gloves slowly, tauntingly. Whenever he used his hands he liked the sting of skin-on-skin contact. There would be no barrier to absorb any of the shock. He stroked his hands over your ass, smoothing over your cold skin as he spoke.

 “Count them out. Do not dare miss one.”

There was no warm up. He set down a brutal pace of harsh stinging slaps to your ass as one hand held the rope preventing you from twisting away. Your already-raw throat screamed out the numbers as you jerked. With every slap and every twitch the rough hemp rubbed your pussy and the cleft of your ass. Already chafing, you knew by the end of the night that your flesh would be raw. As he spanked you he avoided the cheeks, deliberately hitting the sensitive mean spot where your thigh met the curve of your ass. Every time you went to sit for the next week you would feel this.

He made you endure twenty; more than he ever had before in one sitting. They were hard, _hard_ spanks, too. The crack of his hand meeting flesh competed against your anguished wails and your hoarse counting. By the time he had finished your ass was flaming and raw between the friction of the rope and his hand. Halfway through the punishment you had broken down in sobs. With the end of the spanks and counting, your blubbering was the loudest sound in the room. Hanzo’s laboured breathing calmed, turning to a heavy sigh.

“I don’t _want_ to hurt you, beloved. This is for your own good,” he crooned.

“I- know. Thank you, daddy.” You murmured thickly through the mucus and the scream building in your throat.

You heard him shift off the chair and crouch behind you. His hands smoothed over your red flesh and for one hopeful moment you thought he was going to loosen the rope. Instead, he grasped the rope over your cunt and pulled it roughly to the side. You moaned in light relief as the pressure was removed from your raw pussy. The relief was short-lived, however, as you realised he wasn’t yet finished with you.

 The air of the room stung at your tender flesh, wet only due to having his attention (in any form) and from being drunk. He didn’t even bother fingering you before he thrust his cock into your tensed hole. You whimpered as you felt his girth stretching out your unprepared walls, thanking the heavens that you were such a horny drunk. You couldn’t imagine the pain of this dry. With every thrust you moaned in pain and pleasure as his cock dragged against your sensitive walls and his hips hit your raw and tender flesh. He bent his body over your back and laced his fingers through yours as he deepened his strokes. He fucked you without care for your comfort or enjoyment. This was very much a part of your punishment. You keened out, the sound hitching with every buck of his hips against yours. Like his spanks, his pace was brutal. You felt like a living fleshlight being pounded into the ground.

“You’re – so – _like_ – _him_.”

“You – have – _no_ – restraint.”

He grunted out phrases that made no sense to you. You didn’t question it, merely lying beneath him as he abused your hole in pursuit of his own pleasure. He kept talking, more vocal than he usually was, telling you that you needed to modify your behaviour, warning you not to disappoint your father. You just clenched your eyes and tried to chase the sparks of pleasure that flared amidst the pain. He pressed more firmly against you, anchoring himself with your interlaced hands as he sped up. You moaned in anticipation, knowing he was close and that you were going to remain unfulfilled. With a final snap of his hips he forced his cock as far inside of you as he could, bumping your swollen cervix and flooding your insides with white. He stroked his thumbs over the back of your hands as he came down from the high, breathing heavily. You could feel his hot breath against your neck as he nuzzled into you, still panting. Your clenched eyelids relaxed but didn’t open as your mind caught up with the pain in your body.  You whined as he shifted inside you; you felt as if he had thrown you from his balcony.

 He lifted his face from where it was burrowing into your neck so that he could rasp directly into your ear.

“I know it hurts, blossom, but that’s what happens when you misbehave.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! If you have any thoughts, comments or questions drop me a note below or on tumblr (@takemyhart).


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